


This Never Happened Before

by seekrest



Series: Spideychelle Bingo [11]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Lake House (2006)
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Identity Reveal, Inspired by The Lake House, Love Letters, Michelle Jones is a Little Shit, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27649289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: It was a joke between her and Harry, back when they were dating - why the owners would have a mailbox out in front when any actual mail would get sent to their place of residence. Harry had joked that it was a rich people thing, part of the whole ‘cabin out in the middle of nowhere’ mystery that Michelle had just rolled her eyes at.She’s glad for it now, sliding the letter into the mailbox and lifting the little red handle to indicate that there’s something there - hoping that whoever the next guest is that they’d check it out.Whether they did or they didn’t, Michelle did her part - feeling just a little bit lighter as she glances out over the lake house one more time.
Relationships: Liz Allan & Michelle Jones, Michelle Jones & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: Spideychelle Bingo [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845310
Comments: 243
Kudos: 149
Collections: Marvel Fans 4 BLM





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bethy_277](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethy_277/gifts).



> To Beth, who was my winning bidder for the Marvel Fans for BLM charity auction <3

**January 2035**

Michelle sighs as she looks around, holding the last box that she has of her belongings. 

The hum of the insects in the background aren’t all that dissimilar to the noise of the city, quiet and peaceful in a way that helps her unwind. 

Harry used to think that analogy didn’t make sense but then that’s part of the reason why they never really fit. Michelle laughs to herself, wondering how he’s doing and the chances of running into each other would be in a city as big as New York. 

_Just my luck_ , she thinks as she puts the last of her belongings into the trunk of her car. She closes it, looking back out over to the lake house that had served as her home away from home for the weekend.

It was massive, more of an estate really with all the bells, whistles and kind of tech that makes her think that the previous owner had clearly been some kind of Silicon Valley genius. It was an inside joke with herself that the AirBnB that her and Harry used to frequent as a couple was now a place that she most enjoyed for some quiet moments of solitude. 

It was extravagant, even if the price of renting it out wasn’t nearly as obscene as it should be. But Aunt Anna insisted on it, a treat for her only niece.

“The doctor in our family deserves a break,” Aunt Anna would always say, Michelle rolling her eyes more times than not but being very grateful for it now.

Tomorrow being the first day of residency wasn’t something that she was particularly nervous about, Michelle had prepared too much for it to feel something as simple as _nerves_ , but it was a little overwhelming to say the least. 

There’s something entirely different from being a student doctor following around attendings and being the one actually _called_ doctor, expected to know what she’s doing half the time though Michelle already anticipates on leaning on the nurses and techs as much as she possibly can. 

Michelle’s about to open the door to her car before pausing, looking back to the lake house once more. There was a tradition at this particular AirBnB to leave a little note to the next residents, a kind of “pay it forward” that the original owners requested. 

She didn’t know who those owners were and never really participated in it beforehand, especially since Harry usually took care of not just the bill but any messages to be left behind.

But something strikes her just then to do it, a whim that Michelle leans with since the chances of her having the chance to do something as silly and as impulsive as this would be slim to none as the months went on. 

She opens the car door and reaches into the glove compartment, rustling around for a pen and paper before finding both - leaning back into her seat and uncapping the pen.

Michelle pauses, glancing out over the lake house once more before she smiles and begins to write. 

_To the next guest,_

_If you haven’t been told already, it’s a tradition in this place to leave a little message for the next visitors. I don’t usually do this kind of thing but the world is bad enough out there. We all need a little help sometimes._

_Some things to remember:_

_There’s some weird bite and scratch marks on the side of the building facing the lake. I don’t know what caused it and I haven’t asked, but I haven’t seen any dead bodies around so… think of it as part it’s charm._

_The water pressure is amazing and the heat is seemingly limitless. You will_ _still_ _need to wait a few seconds when starting the shower. Otherwise, you’re gonna have a very interesting wake up call. Trust me._

_For as teched out as this place is, the coffee pot is ancient and apparently also part of the charm. The coffee tastes a little burnt but the view makes up for it._

_Have a great stay. It’s a great place. Hope you enjoy it._

_Best,_

_MJ_

_01/35_

Michelle looks at her handiwork, smirking to herself before folding up the note and exiting the car - walking over to the mailbox that she knows for a fact is just for show. 

It was a joke between her and Harry, back when they were dating - why the owners would have a mailbox out in front when any _actual_ mail would get sent to their place of residence. Harry had joked that it was a rich people thing, part of the whole ‘cabin out in the middle of nowhere’ mystery that Michelle had just rolled her eyes at.

She’s glad for it now, sliding the letter into the mailbox and lifting the little red handle to indicate that there’s something there - hoping that whoever the next guest is that they’d check it out. 

Whether they did or they didn’t, Michelle did her part - feeling just a little bit lighter as she glances out over the lake house one more time. 

_Time to head back to real life_ , she thinks to herself before bundling her coat and turning back to her car - snow crunching underneath her feet and a smile on her face as she does so. 

* * *

“Is anyone sitting here?” 

Michelle glances up from her lunch to see Liz, one of the senior residents staring up at her. She motions for the chair across from her, Michelle shaking her head and motioning for her to sit.

Liz does so with a smile, setting her own lunch pail down as the busy din of the cafeteria echoes around in the background.

“Michelle right?” Liz asks, Michelle nodding as Liz starts to unpack her food. 

“First week down. How are you feeling?”

Michelle huffs out a laugh, one that just makes Liz’s smile grow wider as Michelle says, “It’s… a lot.”

“Yeah, they really throw you guys out to the wolves,” Liz stage-whispers, head nodding towards the attendings that were sitting across the hospital. Michelle just smiles, feeling an instant kinship with her from the mischievous smile on her face as Liz says, “Watch, they’ll probably see us and try and snap a picture for the residency website.”

Michelle laughs, Liz joining in as she leans forward. “Where you from?”

“Here, originally,” Michelle says, picking at her sandwich. “Harvard for undergrad. Northwestern for med school. You?”

“Born and raised. NYU for undergrad, Columbia for med. I can’t imagine leaving the city,” Liz says not unkindly, Michelle taking the pause in the conversation to press forward. 

“I never thought I’d like it but,” Michelle shrugs, “it was nice, see a little more of what’s out there.”

“What brought you back?” Liz asks. Normally Michelle would bristle at someone being so forthright but there’s something about Liz that sets her at ease, a gentleness that immediately endears her to Michelle. 

“Just cause I wanted to _see_ more of what’s out there didn’t mean I like it,” Michelle jokes, smiling when Liz laughs loudly at that. 

“Smart move,” Liz says with a grin, Michelle inwardly taking that as a win as she takes another bite of her food. 

For all of Michelle’s preparation, the first week had left her feeling a little in over her head. She felt at home in a hospital, as much as she could be anyway, but learning the “ropes” from the less than welcoming attendings hadn’t made the transition any easier. 

She’d told herself when she walked in that she was going to be intentional about making a friend, but the rush of learning where she was going - much less everyone else’s names - had made everything else fall at the wayside. Michelle’s glad that Liz seemed nice enough to pick her out of the crowd, the more cynical part of her wondering if maybe this was some kind of push from the attendings to find interns and befriend them. 

She pushes that thought away as quickly as it comes, focusing more on what was in front of her and the kindness that radiated from Liz. 

“I know we just met but can I offer some advice?” Liz asks, Michelle waiting expectantly as Liz sets down her yogurt.

“The cafeteria is easy but it is also _so_ loud,” she says, nodding once again to the attendings who sounded less like professionals and more like members of a sorority and frat. Michelle bites back a laugh as Liz continues, “Find a place with some sunshine or some air outside. I promise, if anyone needs anything, they’ll contact you.”

Liz points to Michelle with her spoon, a smile on her face as she says, “Got to take the time to take care of yourself.” 

“Noted,” Michelle says, taking the friendly advice for what it is. Her mom was finally back in town from vacation, thinking of the text she’d sent asking when Michelle would be free for lunch. 

There was a pretty park just outside of the hospital that they could meet up at, especially since the weather was supposed to be freakishly warm in the next week. She makes a mental note of texting her back the location when she has another free moment, turning her attention back to Liz. 

“Any other secrets out there?” she asks, Liz smirking as she leans in conspiratorially. 

“You really want to know?”

Michelle grins.

“Definitely.”

**February 2035**

“Sixty degrees on Valentine’s Day. This can’t be New York.”

“Global warming,” Michelle’s mom says with a laugh, Michelle looking back at her as she says, “Icebergs start melting, water covers the earth. Thank God we won’t live to see it.”

“Nice, mom,” Michelle says, her mom still laughing as Michelle looks back down to her open purse, tilting her head as she asks, “What’s this?”

“Mmm, one of your dad’s,” her mom replies, Michelle listening and yet not at the same time as she describes the book that was so obscure that even she didn’t know where it came from. She’d have to thank Liz for suggesting meeting outside or at least getting out of the hospital on a consistent basis, especially for how often now she got the chance to see her mom. 

Michelle hadn’t said it then that but was another reason she’d moved back to the city, a desire to be closer to her mom especially after her dad died two years ago. Michelle’s dad had been the one who encouraged her voracious reading habits when she was a kid and the art she used to do as a hobby and now that he was gone, it pained her to think that she had let some of those hobbies go. 

She couldn’t make up the time she lost with her dad but she was glad at least that she still had her mom, only to smile when her mom seems to notice that she’s not really paying attention - brown eyes squinting at her.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Michelle says with a grin, laughing as her mom shakes her head, her long braids swishing back and forth as she does. 

Before she gets the chance to say anything else, Michelle hears a loud roar in the distance - whipping her head towards the sound only for her eyes to grow wide when she sees it.

It’s a man, or at least she thinks it is, long tentacle like arms marching forward as someone else in a rhino looking suit barrels forward. She sees a flash of red and blue come from the other side, Michelle and her mom scrambling away from the fight as it reaches a head right in front of the hospital.

 _I hate this city_ , she thinks but doesn’t say as her mom and her run, Michelle and her mom ducking for cover along with the others who are doing the same - turning back and looking on in horror as Spider-Man fights whatever villains of the week are right in front of him. 

This was the part she hadn’t missed about living in New York, the random and seemingly never ending fights that the Avengers and their like got caught up with almost daily. It was all people ever wanted to talk to her about when they found out she was from the city, but Michelle hadn’t cared about it even when she lived there - the kind of nonchalance that only came from being a born and bred New Yorker. 

Yet having grown up in the city as long as she had, she knew enough to have been witness to enough supervillain and superhero fights that whatever was happening between Spider-Man and whoever these guys were - Spider-Man was _losing_.

She watches as Spider-Man swings, just barely avoiding a hit from the rhino looking guy only to get slammed by a tentacle from the other one. 

“Come on Spider-Man,” someone next to her whispers, Michelle finding herself thinking the same as she watches - only to inhale sharply as others start to scream.

It’s like time moves in slow motion, watching in horror as Spider-Man avoids a hit by a tentacle only to get sliced through with another - the screams of those around her turning deathly silent when Spider-Man gets slammed down to the ground.

“Is he--”

“Did anyone see him?”

“What’s going on?”

The voices around her are whispered and furious, Michelle’s self-preservation instincts battling with her medical training. Her mother places a hand to her shoulder, Michelle quickly turning to her and seeing the fear and the determination in her eyes - only for someone else to call out, “Look, it’s Cap!”

She turns to see Captain America fly in, along with some other woman draped in red - wishing now that she had a better sense of who these superheroes were so she had an inkling of knowing exactly what was happening.

Only to hear a shattered cry come from the woman in red, her stomach dropping when she falls to her knees as the Human Torch comes barreling forward through the sky - sending firebombs towards the two villains who had fought Spider-Man.

Michelle has seen enough loss, in her life and as part of her job, to know all too well what the look on the woman in red’s face means - horror churning around in her gut of what she just witnessed.

“Is he…?” Someone repeats, Michelle moving to a stand as the villains are warded off - the fight echoing out in the background as they all stare. 

For as busy as New York as, for as loud as the city can be - the street feels quiet in a way that unnerves Michelle, her mom slipping her hand into hers, tightening her grip as they tried to make sense of what was happening in front of them. 

The sinking feeling in her stomach only grows when she sees Captain America fly back down, not missing the way his shoulders drop as the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach grows. 

* * *

“Mayor Osborn announced that plans for the memorial for Spider-Man would begin next week, following a unanimous vote for--”

Michelle turns the radio off, plugging in her phone and turning on a playlist to distract her before turning her attention back to the road - hands gripping the steering wheel tight as she took a deep breath.

It still didn’t get any easier to hear it, the fact that Spider-Man had not only died but had died right in front of her - powerless to stop it in a way that didn’t come easy for her. 

It was ironic and a little egotistical to think that she could’ve done anything to save him, not least of which because half of the NYU medical team had rushed forward to assist before Spider-Man had been airlifted out to wherever the Avengers compound was supposed to be. 

But all of it had been for nothing, something that Michelle had known from the moment that it happened. 

Spider-Man was dead. Michelle had been right there to watch it happen. And just like her dad, there was nothing she could’ve done to stop it. 

It shouldn’t affect her as much as it did. She didn’t know Spider-Man and didn’t care about superheroes, but it was still jarring - in a way that she was having a hard time coming to grips with considering the week from hell that she’d already had.

The halls of the hospital felt even more dreary and confusing, patients and staff alike bursting into tears seemingly out of nowhere - the amount of Spider-Man decorations adorning the pediatric ward being a little too much for Michelle to stomach, much less having to overhear the kids crying over their fallen hero.

It’d been Liz who suggested that she take her next leave to get out of the city, her mom encouraging the fact and contacting Aunt Anna before she could say no.

“I’ll just hang around my apartment,” she’d said, only for her mom to put her foot down - arguing that this was the least they could to support her, Michelle taking the kindness for what it was and being glad in her own way for the reprieve. 

She’d become so used to being on her own when she went to college and to medical school. For as much as she looked forward to spending more time with her mom, she wasn’t sure if spending a week with her or even spending time alone in her own apartment - still surrounded by news of Spider-Man and the personal failure she knows she shouldn’t feel in being unable to see him - taunting her wherever she went. 

The drive out to the lake house passed by quickly, the closer she got to it the more she was glad that she had taken her mom and Aunt Anna up on the offer. The lake house was a place where she felt more herself in a way that she couldn’t explain, a peace there that she’d yet to capture in her new studio apartment. 

The freak heat wave was gone, snow steadily falling as she pulls down the familiar road that would lead her to where the lake house was situated - feeling herself relax as she makes her way down the driveway. 

The house looms large over her, casting a shadow over the car as she parks and turns off the ignition - debating what she should have for dinner only to pause when she notices it.

The mailbox’s red flag was up, a part of Michelle immediately curious to know if someone had stayed there in the few months it’d been since she had - only to wonder if maybe it was still just her letter sitting there.

 _Only one way to find out_ , she thinks to herself, grabbing her things and exiting her car - snow rattling off the top of her car as she closes the door and walks over.

Michelle feels a rush of anticipation as she gets closer to the mailbox, chiding herself for the silly thought yet instantly rewarded when she opens it and sees a piece of paper in it.

Her face falls when she sees that it’s just her own letter, turning it over and feeling a thrill once again when she sees new, unfamiliar writing on the other side. 

That thrill turns to confusion when she reads the message, taking hold of the letter in two hands - incredulous as her eyes travel over it. 

_Dear MJ,_

_I got your note and I’m afraid there has to be some kind of misunderstanding. Maybe your note was intended for the Sandringham cottage down the road._

_I’m a little confused on how you know about the lake house in the first place or have ever lived here enough to know about the water pressure since this place has been empty for years._

_I agree though, we all need a little help sometimes. If you have a message for the Sandringham cottage, I’ll pass it on to them._

_Best,_

_Peter_

_Oh and by the way, it’s 2033, not 2035._

Michelle blinks a few times, rereading the note over and over again and feeling more confused than ever.

“What the fuck?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am fully aware that residencies start in July not January but ✨ it’s pretend ✨


	2. Chapter 2

Michelle blinks a few times, reading the message over and over and finding that she still has no earthly idea what this is supposed to mean. 

_2033? What the hell?_ Michelle laughs to herself, turning the letter over and over again. Living life post-Blip had resulted in a lot of different types of problems like figuring out social security, taxes and ownership but almost ten years after the Avengers saved the day, Michelle would’ve thought by now that people wouldn’t still be confused for something as basic as the date all these years later. 

Michelle knows rich people who vacation here get a little weird about things from what Harry used to tell her but she really can’t wrap her head around the idea that this Peter guy thinks she meant to go to the Sandringham cottage. It’s more than a few miles down the road and she doesn’t even know if it has a mailbox, or is even open to rent, much less what the water pressure would be like.

For a brief second, she’s tempted to just ignore this - throw the letter away as a failed experiment and resume the vacation that this weekend was supposed to be. 

But something stops her, the politeness of the message and the fact that while he was objectively wrong, he seemed interested in helping her out if she needed it.

Against her better judgement, Michelle rifles through her purse for a pen - uncapping one and quickly scribbling out a note underneath the message that Peter had written.

_Dear Peter,_

_I know the Sandringham cottage and I promise, I’ve never spent any time there. I’m not even sure they’re available to rent out. I’m not interested in playing any kind of game, just trying to do what the owners have asked._

_And I promise, it’s 2035. Has been all year. Ask anyone._

_MJ_

Michelle reviews the note once more, satisfied that she’s done what she’s needed to do as she puts it back in the mailbox. She lowers the red flag this time around, a test for herself more than anything to see if someone was just messing with her.

It’s objectively weird, for someone to be so wrong about the date and so politely insistent that no one has stayed here before. She didn’t ask the details of how long the place had been open and now, closing the mailbox and walking back to her car to grab her things - she has half a mind to just pack it up and leave.

She doesn’t, partly cause she’s sure that no matter what this Peter guy seems to think, staying here has to cost a fortune - locking her car as she closes the door.

Snow gently starts to fall, Michelle bundling her coat closer together as she walks to the front door of the cabin - putting away the weirdness so she can focus on the vacation this was supposed to be. 

* * *

The calm for that vacation lasts all of an hour. 

She’s just started a fire, one of the few comforts that she wishes she had in her studio apartment when she glances out the window only to do a double take. 

Michelle had only meant to look and see if the weather had changed any since she’d arrived, completely caught off guard when she saw the little red flag from the mailbox out front standing upright - squinting at it slightly as her heart started to race.

Immediately, Michelle is on edge - wondering how someone could’ve possibly come onto the property without her knowing. One of the only reasons she ever agreed to come out to this cabin in the first place when she was dating Harry wasn’t just the solitude, but the promise of security - the previous owners having proximity alarms that would alert people of visitors. 

Yet none of those alarms or notices have gone off, Michelle grabbing her phone and checking the panel at the front door once more. She stares off at the window, indecision churning in her gut. 

In one sense, this was unbelievably stupid. She was out here, alone, in the middle of nowhere and with snow starting to fall. If someone was trying to mess with her or lure her outside, she was walking exactly into some kind of trap.

In another, there was no way that the sensor wouldn’t have picked up someone who came onto the property - her mind bringing back the memory of Harry trying and failing to stop the sensor from blaring when a food delivery driver had drive up once. 

Michelle chews at the inside of her cheek, keeping her phone steady as she puts on her coat and walks back outside. 

The snow crunches under her feet as she does so, heart racing in double time as she gets closer and closer to the mailbox. 

It doesn’t make sense for the little red flag to be put up unless she had somehow forgotten that she had done so - something Michelle _knows_ isn’t possible but thinks all the same as she gets closer.

When she finally is in front of it, she glances around - opening up the mailbox and looking in, only to see a brand new letter in there.

If her heart was racing before, it’s pounding outside of her chest now - Michelle tentatively reaching into it and unfolding the new note. 

_Dear MJ_ ,

_I’m not trying to play a game but I am genuinely confused about how insistent you are about this. There’s no way that you could’ve stayed here because this lake house has not ever been up for rent, in any capacity and has once again been empty for years. There’s also no scratch marks on the side of the house._

_And I don’t know if this is a belated Blip joke but I promise_ _you_ _, it’s 2033. Believe me. I’d know._

_Best,_

_Peter_

Michelle huffs out a little laugh of exasperation, the weirdness of how this message arrived here in the first place giving away for the barely contained annoyance that she can feel emanating off of this mysterious Peter.

“Okay, you wanna play this game,” she mutters to herself, patting down the pockets of her coat before finding a pen - glad that this old habit of her dad’s has stayed with her as she clicks it on and scribbles out a message underneath Peter’s. 

_Dear Peter,_

_Only insistent because it’s the truth. Not playing games. Not even sure why I’m entertaining this. The side of the house has always had scratches, just like the year is 2035. Blip jokes weren’t funny back then and they’re not funny now._

Michelle considers adding more, only to chide herself for how ridiculous this is - shoving the letter back into the mailbox and pulling the little red flag down. She stares at it for a beat, as if it would somehow move only to laugh at herself for her ridiculousness. 

_Get it together, Jones_ , she tells herself, folding her arms over the chest and marching back into the house - pushing away any thoughts of anyone watching her and forcing herself to try and relax.

* * *

The rest of the evening is uneventful, if only for how pointedly Michelle ignores the mailbox out front. 

Tries to, at least. 

She catches herself wanting to look out to the front, waiting to see if the proximity sensor was malfunctioning or if she could somehow catch someone trying to mess with her only to find nothing - the little red flag still pulled down and no one in sight for miles. 

Michelle reminds herself that the whole reason for her to be at the lake house was to relax, not obsess over things that were irrational and ridiculous. 

_Not obsessed, just observant_ , she tells herself - the same mantra her father always used to say when he and her mother would banter back and forth in the kitchen. The memories of them dancing together in the kitchen help distract her as she makes herself more at home, cooking and turning on some music as she unwinds. 

Michelle doesn’t even make it to the bed on time, falling asleep on the couch. Partly because she was emotionally and physically exhausted but mostly because she still couldn’t get rid of the nudging in the back of her mind that there was something that she was missing - some obvious truth out there that she hadn’t uncovered. 

She’s rewarded when she wakes up the next morning, groggily making herself a cup of tea and looking out over to the front window - heart leaping up to her throat when she sees it.

The little red flag of the mailbox. 

Pulled up. 

Michelle grabs her phone, her coat and a knife this time for good measure - walking out the door and glancing around.

“Come on out asshole. I’m not playing games with you!” She calls out, the only response she gets being the chirps of birds sitting in the trees. She looks around, seeing no one before opening up the mailbox - finding the same letter and new writing underneath her own. 

_Agreed. Blip jokes are bad. Sorry about that._

_Point stands. It’s 2033. No one has ever been up here in years except for me. And because of that, I’m a little creeped out that you keep leaving these messages without me knowing. How’d you hack the proximity sensors? How are you doing this? Magic?_

Michelle is dumbfounded, even more confused since the only way someone could’ve possibly known about the sensors was if they had stayed here before. It wasn’t advertised on the brochure, not the specific sensors at least - Michelle laying the knife across the open mailbox door and scribbling out a response. 

_YOU’RE creeped out? How are YOU doing this? And magic? Really?_

Michelle grabs the knife, shoves the letter in before closing the door and pulling down the flag - turning her back to the mailbox and waiting anxiously for someone to arrive. 

Rationally, Michelle knows the smart option is to stay inside but there’s a small voice that whispers to her that this isn’t a threat - a gut instinct that hasn’t failed her yet. 

That gut instinct is the only thing keeping her out here until she hears a creak behind her, inhaling sharply when she turns and watches in slight horror and amazement as the little red flag turns up in front of her eyes. 

_What the fuck?_ She thinks, hands shaking slightly as she opens the mailbox and reaches for the letter.

_A literal thunder god exists and you’re asking me if this isn’t magic?_

_Seriously, who is this? How did you even know this place exists?_

Michelle writes as fast as her hands can manage, shaking a little from nerves and excitement and something else she can’t put a name to. 

_Fine. Weird shit happens. I’m telling you, this cabin’s an AirBnB. Has been for over a year or so._

_Look. I don’t know who you are or what your game is but I’m standing here… right now. It’s 2035. I’m not doing this. Are you?_

Michelle waits. A deep breath. Another sharp inhale at the creak of the mailbox as the red flag goes up again right in front of her eyes. 

_I’m not._

_Holy shit. Is this really happening?_

_I’m nobody. Just Peter. A little freaked out, yeah. But you know… weirder things have happened. I was Blipped so… time travel? Not the most out there thing I’ve ever heard._

Michelle lets out a sharp laugh, scribbling back a response. 

_You’re taking this surprising well. I am actually freaking out right now._

_Are you_ **_really_ ** _in 2033? How do_ _you_ _know about this place if you’ve never lived here?_

It shouldn’t surprise her to see the little red flag rise yet it still does - heart beating a thousand miles a minute when she reads over his reply. 

_I'm really in 2033. Now that I’m thinking about it, this isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened here. I don’t know what’s in the brochure to advertise this place but you know, renting it out isn't a bad idea._

_And it’s… complicated. Came out here a lot when I was a teenager. Family that owns the place are old family friends. Might have to come out here more often now. Magic time traveling mailboxes? Needed a little more excitement in my life._

_I guess we should properly introduce ourselves then._

_Hi. I’m Peter. I’m from 2033 and apparently I’ll be renting this place out in a year or whatever. Good to know I have a plan to look forward to. My life could use some direction._

_Is your name really MJ? Or is that just your magic wizard name?_

Michelle lets out another laugh - barely registering the cold air she feels outside from the rush she feels in her chest. This is one of the most ridiculous things she’s ever been a part of - a part of her still can’t believe she’s entertaining it - but there it is, in black and white. She runs her thumb over the writing once more, blowing out some air out of her mouth as her mind races - exhilarated and intrigued as she thinks of her response. 

**March 2035**

“Hey, you busy?”

Michelle glances up, trying to subtly hide what she’s writing with her arm - only to smile when she sees that it’s Liz.

“No, what’s up?” She asks, discreetly moving the paper around as Liz sits down across from her. 

“Remember how we talked about the student volunteer program that was starting up again during spring break?” Liz asks, Michelle nodding as she continues.

“So normally they just assign volunteers to shadow different doctors. Residents, senior residents, you know the drill.”

Michelle waits, feeling as if Liz is bracing her for something as she just holds back a smile. 

“Well, this time around we have a… interesting recruit. VIP,” Liz says carefully, Michelle looking back at her expectantly.

“Okay…”

“The kind of VIP that had the attendings _all_ in a tizzy, trying to rearrange their lives so that they could have the chance to do the grunt work they never want to. Thing is,” Liz says with a smile, “VIP’s family made it _very_ clear that if they even think that they’re getting special treatment, they’ll go somewhere else.”

“ _Why_ are you telling me this?” Michelle asks with a laugh, Liz’s eyes feeling with a kind of glee that makes Michelle very glad that they’d become fast friends for how infectious it is as Liz grins. 

“Because they assign volunteers at random. To residents. And you,” Liz says, glancing around as if she was passing state secrets before sliding a folder over the table to Michelle, “just got randomly assigned to mentor our VIP.”

Michelle looks down to the folder, glancing up to Liz who is beaming, only to set her letter aside and open it up.

She stares at the piece of paper, blinking a few times as she absorbs this information before glancing up to Liz in confusion.

“A Morgan?” 

“Not just _any_ Morgan,” Liz whispers, leaning forward in a way that just makes Michelle laugh even more. “Morgan _Stark_.”

“Okay,” Michelle says, unable to help herself in teasing Liz who just looks exasperated.

“You know. _The_ Morgan Stark. Daughter of--”

“Yeah, I know who she is,” Michelle interrupts, Liz looking a little relieved that she didn’t have to explain who the daughter of the savior of the universe was to her. “I just don’t get why it’s a big deal? She’s what, fifteen now?”

“Sixteen,” Liz says, Michelle glancing down to the application form in front of her again as she nods.

“She’s probably just looking for a way to boost her college applications or something.”

Liz makes a face, Michelle just grinning as Liz says, “She’s Morgan fucking Stark. What the hell else does she need?”

Michelle just shrugs, Liz letting out a surprised laugh as she leans back and shakes her head.

“You’re something else, MJ. I like it though.”

Michelle just smiles back at her, Liz going to say something else only for her pager to buzz. Liz glances to it, the smile on her face falling as she reads the incoming message.

“Shit, I gotta go,” she says, looking back up to Michelle and tapping the table that they’re at once. “Meet at O’Donnell’s tonight? Usual time?”

“Sounds great,” Michelle says with a smile, Liz winking before heading off to whatever emergency was taking her away. 

Michelle watches as she goes, glad not for the first time that they’d become such fast friends. Liz was pretty, smart, funny as hell - the kind of person that a younger Michelle would’ve wished she could be more like. As it was now, Michelle was just glad that she was around someone who thought of her so freely as a friend, focusing her attention back on the folder in front of her.

Michelle wasn’t an idiot, she knew who Morgan Stark in the same way that everyone knew the children of royal families. She remembered hearing about her in her first year of med school, the then twelve-year old having hacked into a suit of her own to fly around Manhattan - spurning on the conspiracy theorists who argued that Tony Stark was alive and well and hiding out in some underground bunker.

Michelle thought the conspiracy theorists were stupid but she felt a pang of empathy at seeing the news about Morgan, wondering how that kind of attention had to impact someone who was so young. When she lost her own father, the anniversary of Tony Stark’s death was two days later - wondering again how Morgan could deal with such unimaginable grief in the public eye, much less having grown up without him to begin with.

Michelle’s indifference to superheroes extended to celebrities, of which Morgan Stark no doubt was. It was probably fitting that she was the one assigned to her because celebrity or not, Michelle remembered the drill from her own days shadowing doctors. 

Polite. Professional. No nonsense, just like how Dr. Jimenez had always been with her. 

Michelle closes the folder before bringing her attention back to the letter she was writing before, glad for now that Liz had been too distracted to ask what she was up to.

Even in a world of superheroes and their rebellious teenage daughters, trying to explain Peter might have been a step too far. 

She found herself taking her Aunt Anna’s offer on renting out the lake house during the weekends she was off more than ever, Aunt Anna going so far as to pay for her gas which was a little much but Michelle appreciated it. 

Neither her nor her mom pushed for the reason why Michelle had the sudden change, nor did she give one - smiling as she rereads Peter’s letter for the fifth time. 

_MJ,_

_Thanks for the tip about the snowstorm. Made driving out here a lot harder but it’s worth it. Is it cheesy to say I look forward to getting your letters?_

_And to answer your question, of course. I love my husband. We have ten children and are very happy, except for all the gas I’m using to drive up here. He thinks I’m cheating. Should I tell him? ;)_

_...I’m single. And bi if that wasn’t already clear._

_Anything else I should watch out for, weather-wise? I checked out the book you recommended. Solid cover. Looks interesting. Can’t wait to dive in._

_Until next time,_

_Peter_

Michelle smirks to herself, doodling her favorite flower along the margins of her letter as she debates what to write next - thinking back to the craziest month of her life. 

It was objectively weird, to think she was communicating with someone from the past - not to mention the way they were doing so. They’d made a pact, that first weekend, to keep to their letters instead of trying to find each other and risk breaking the spell for whatever magic or situation that had brought them together in the first place.

The rational part of Michelle thought it was a ridiculous plan, but the romantic that she buried deep within felt thrilled - a sense of longing and adventure that was about as interesting as her life could really be in the moment.

She finishes her sketch before putting pen to paper, the busyness of the break room fading away as she wrote.

_Peter,_

_What am I, your personal weather forecaster? Download an app like the rest of us. Besides, by the time you read this, it’ll probably be the end of March. Long past the alien invasion._

_Kidding. Or am I? :)_

_Thanks for the clarification but I might’ve guessed, considering how freely you’ve been flirting with me the past month or so. I am also single (and bi)._

_We’ve known each other for a month but I already have a good guess that you’ll never read that book. At least turn it back in on time. Libraries rely on their inventory, you know._

Michelle looks up from the paper, musing to herself of what to write next. For as much as she enjoyed the idea of the pact, she desperately wished that she could see who Peter was or know more about him. She couldn’t press Aunt Anna into asking for more information of who she rented from without risking a mini interrogation and googling the lake house itself didn’t give her a lot of info either.

Since the two of them had kept to their first names, she couldn’t very well look him up - shoulders sagging at the thought that the second friend that she’d really made since moving back to the city didn’t even live in the same time as she did.

Michelle’s pager starts to buzz, glancing at it and cursing when she realizes the time - putting her papers together so she can shove them back in her locker before she has to run back out. 

Peter would have to wait for her response, much less for her to have the chance to get the letter out.

But Michelle couldn’t deny the thrill she feels in knowing that he _would_ be waiting, a warmth in her chest and a lightness in her heart at the idea that he was out somewhere - just as excited to hear from her as she was to hear from him. 


	3. Chapter 3

**April 2035**

Michelle smiles as she walks up to her mom, her own arms extended to return the hug that’s freely waiting for her. 

“Morning Meesh,” her mom says into her hair, squeezing her tight before gently letting her out of the hug. “You ready to get some breakfast?”

Michelle nods, arm intertwining with her mom as they walk to the diner that they used to frequent back in high school. “Definitely. You think they still have the banana pancakes?”

“Wouldn’t be old Sal’s if they didn’t,” she says, the two of them walking in step together as they make their way to the diner.

It’s a nice tradition, one that Michelle had sorely missed when she went off to school and then med school - the only missing piece being the space her father had left behind. Michelle wasn’t sure if there would ever be a day when she wouldn’t miss him, but it was days like this one - laughing and joking with her mom as her mom regales her with some story about her students that made her glad that she’d moved back into the city.

“Well?”

“Hmm?” Michelle asks, taking a sip of her coffee before bringing the mug down. 

“How’s that boyfriend of yours?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Michelle quickly says, ignoring the way her mom looks at her as her fingers fiddle with the handle of the coffee mug. “He’s a long distance… friend.”

Her mom hums at that, Michelle finally looking up to meet her gaze and seeing the disbelieving look on her face. 

If Michelle would’ve had her way, she would’ve kept Peter a secret for as long as possible - still unsure of how she could possibly explain this to anyone without it making her sound as if she was making things up.

But Peter had been right - weirder things had happened in the world. When Michelle’s mom kept gently prodding for why she was leaving the city so often when before she’d been reluctant to ever take Aunt Anna up on her kindness, it didn’t take long for Michelle to break. 

The problem, if it could even be called that, is how her rational, level-headed mother seemed completely swept up in the idea. 

“Your father and I were long distance when I was in grad school.”

“Yeah, across the country and across _timelines_ are two entirely separate things,” Michelle bounces back, incredulous as she shakes her head and her fingers dance around the coffee mug. “I’m not even sure if he’s not from some alternate dimension or something. What if he’s not actually a person and just this weird alien? What if this is all just some big scam?”

She looks up to her mother, seeing a look that’s oddly familiar only to be struck with the realization that it’s likely the same look that _she_ gives other people when she thinks they’re full of shit. 

Michelle’s been told all her life that she’s like her mother but it’s still unnerving all the same to see it play out in real time. 

“Michelle, do you really believe that?” Her mom asks, her tone even yet firm as Michelle’s shoulders sag.

“No but--”

“If the current situation isn’t working for you anymore, ask him to meet up now. _Here_ ,” her mom says, as if it was just that simple. 

“I’m not sure if I want to,” Michelle says, chewing the inside of her cheek as her mom stares her down. “We’re just friends.”

Her mom raises an eyebrow, Michelle rushing forward before she can say anything to the contrary. 

“I always wanted a pen pal growing up. Didn’t expect it to be a time traveling one.”

She watches her mom shake her head, taking her own coffee mug in her own hands as she brings it to lips. But before she takes a sip, her mom stares at her over the coffee mug and says, “Meesh, you’re a grown woman. It’s not my job to tell you what to do.”

 _But_ , Michelle thinks but doesn’t say, already anticipating her mom’s next words.

“You’re too smart, too beautiful, and too full of potential to keep allowing yourself to hold yourself back. Enough already.” 

“ _Ouch_ ,” Michelle says, a little indignant but failing to stop the smile spreading across her face, the same one mirrored back on her mom’s face as she continues, “I mean it, Meesh. This Peter guy sounds nice.”

“He’s from another time,” Michelle deadpans, only for her mom to shrug before taking a sip of her coffee and saying, “That’s just a detail.”

“Just a _detail_?” Michelle asks, scoffing as she shakes her head in disbelief. 

“You said it yourself. Weirder things have happened, darling,” her mom says, Michelle saying nothing as she thinks of her mom’s words.

The past two months had flown by, not just because of her work at the hospital but with any leave time she had been spending visiting the lake house. The cost had to be exorbitant by now, to the point where Michelle was beginning to feel a little guilty from going up there so often. But Aunt Anna didn’t seem to mind, if anything encouraging it as much as possible - the look on her mom’s face making Michelle wonder if Aunt Anna was now in on her time traveling secret. 

Michelle doesn’t press it, a companionable silence falling between the two of them as they finish their coffees - Michelle thinking of the plans she has for the day that she doesn’t dare share now. 

It was the equivalent of a date, if Michelle was being honest with herself. A “walk” through the city as a way of reacquainting herself with all the things she’d missed and for Peter to have the chance to “show her around” in a way that would likely be patronizing if he was there but seemed sweet, for how excited he was about it.

It’s enough to make her feel giddy in a way that’s unnerving to Michelle, especially as she walks down a street in Manhattan - wondering not for the first time if this was all some elaborate scheme or her imagination was playing tricks on her.

She pauses, using her phone to follow the directions that Peter had given her as she glances around - only for her eyes to catch on a massive Spider-Man mural. 

It churns something in her gut, the memory of that awful day even if a part of Michelle is morbidly grateful for it. She wasn’t, in any sense of the word - the death of Spider-Man still being felt across the city and in the hospital, considering how close they were to the place he died. She tacitly ignored anything related to him, as much as she could anyway - not interested in knowing the details about the man that she had seen die in front of her and had failed to save. 

But if Spider-Man hadn’t died, Michelle would never have gone back to the lake house - never would’ve “met” Peter. Something that only a few months after exchanging letters, she’s started to look forward to. 

Michelle turns her attention back to her phone, turning in the opposite direction to where Peter was directing her. She walks another few blocks before she sees it, laughing in disbelief and a flutter in her chest when she sees it.   
  


_I had a great day with you, MJ._

_:)_

The messily graffiti’d words are such a contrast to the massive, beautifully done mural but the feelings it incites in Michelle are just as grand - wishing now more than ever that she had Peter’s actual number, could snap a picture and text it to him rather than be bound to the letters and a stupid magical mailbox. 

Michelle settles instead with a promise to herself, to take her mom’s words to heart and to stop holding herself back. 

Michelle had never been one to hold back when it came to the things that she wanted. She didn’t know what this thing was between her and Peter, but that didn’t mean that she should stop herself from finding out. 

**May 2035**

Michelle takes a deep breath, bracing herself against the door before gently knocking.

“I’m fine,” the voice on the other end says, Michelle clearly hearing sniffles in the background that immediately make her suspicious of that fact. 

“Fine or not, it’s an OSHA violation for you to be locked up in there,” Michelle says casually, leaning against the side of the door and folding your arms. “I don’t know about you but if this got out to the press…”

Michelle’s not surprised for the door to open as quickly as it does, nor is she surprised to see the red eyes and puffy cheeks of one Morgan Stark staring back at her furiously.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I think you’d be surprised at what I would dare,” Michelle says, Morgan’s expression a mix between disbelief and teenage rage. Yet Michelle had written the book on teenage angst and radicalism, long before Morgan Stark had ever been a thought in her obscenely rich parent’s minds. They stare at each other for a moment, waiting for the other to break. Michelle didn’t believe in fate but she was sure that the universe must have a sense of humor for her randomly assigned volunteer shadow to be the one person who reminded her a little too much of herself.

Morgan predictably breaks first, letting out a huff before wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Fine. Can we go?”

Michelle shrugs, unfolding her arms and leaning off the door frame as she says, “I don’t know. You’re free to leave if you want.”

Morgan scowls but doesn’t move, Michelle just waiting until Morgan stands up a little straighter - the delicate dance between the two of them something that came easy to Michelle in a way that almost surprised her. 

She turns without saying a word, hearing Morgan’s footsteps behind her as she follows along after - only just barely hearing the grumbling under her breath.

Two months of being Morgan H. Stark’s “mentor” for the volunteering/shadowing gig and she never failed to understand why her family had been so adamant against special treatment. For all her pouting five minutes ago, Morgan wasn’t a particularly spoiled person like Michelle had expected.

Morgan wasn’t a lot of things that she expected. 

Michelle had expected a brat, someone who was bored and had nothing better to do than to waste her time “doing good” for some kind of PR scheme that made Michelle wonder if she was being too cynical only to remind herself that it wouldn’t be the first time such a thing happened.

Whether it was PR or not, Michelle didn’t know but two months of being around her and Michelle was convinced that there was a lot more to Morgan than met the eye.

For one, it was abundantly clear that she was hurting - and not from the shallow little rich girl assumptions that she had wondered would plague her. There was something else under the surface, a loss that Michelle could so clearly see in her eyes as they would make the rounds during the hospital - especially when they would cross the children’s ward. 

Michelle wasn’t a nosy person by nature and Morgan wasn’t the most talkative, the two of them completing most of her volunteer hours in relative silence. 

But the thought was still there, just as finding Morgan after locking herself in a supply closet supported it - to the point that Michelle was beginning to wonder just what it could be but not quite emotionally ready to dive into that with her. 

As they finish out the rest of her round, Michelle thinks back to telling Peter about her “mentee” - the rounds and rounds of NDAs that she’d been forced to sign keeping her from sharing the details even if there was a part of her that thought even the Starks couldn’t interfere with time travel.

Michelle didn’t share everything though, just to be safe. Yet she laughed as Morgan tried desperately not to make a face when they walked into a patient’s room that was a known complainer, thinking back to something Peter had shared. 

_I don’t have any siblings. My parents died when I was really young and my aunt and uncle never had kids of their own, aside from me. I do have something like a kid sister though, if that makes any sense. She’s a pain in the ass but I love her a lot. She’s smart, like you. I think you’d like her if you ever got the chance to meet. You seem like you’d be good with kids._

It was the kind of observation that took her back just for how astute it was, especially since most people that she’d grown up and worked around seemed to think that she wouldn’t like kids at first brush.

Michelle, having been a moody teenager once upon a time, understood Morgan - even if she didn’t know the reason behind her particular attitude. She got it, as much as she could - and even if she hadn’t figured out the best way to approach her, Michelle knew it was a matter of time before she did. 

It’s something she’s still thinking about when Morgan’s waiting for her ride back to wherever the hell she lived, the two of them standing in silence until Morgan turns to her.

“I can wait here on my own.”

“Uh huh, sure you can,” Michelle says, shoving her hands in her coat pocket and ignoring the glare that Morgan’s giving her out of the corner of her eye. Michelle looks out over to the empty car lot, anticipating the same black sedan that always pulled in to pick Morgan up any minute now. 

“I’d believe that more if you didn’t try and ditch your security detail last week at that Oscorp gala.”

Morgan looks offended, making a face that just makes Michelle want to laugh as Morgan says, “I thought you didn’t care about tabloid gossip.”

She doesn’t, it was one of the first things she’d told Morgan when they were first paired up - the latter being just as surly and as unbothered as she was right now. 

But Michelle also wasn’t born yesterday, knowing that if she was gonna be any kind of “mentor” worth her salt, she’d have to do her homework.

Michelle Jones was nothing if not prepared for whatever challenge came her way.

“I don’t,” she says, just as the same unmarked black sedan that was blatantly obvious it was going to carry a rich person somewhere drives into the parking lot, “can’t escape the news.”

Morgan grumbles something under her breath, Michelle just smirking as the car drives up.

Morgan opens the door, looking back to Michelle with a careful expression on her face before saying, “thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome, I guess,” Michelle says with a smile, inwardly pleased when Morgan looks shocked - Michelle turning away from her before she can respond.

Michelle had better things to do than impress a sixteen year old sure, even if her senior attending had made it _very clear_ that Morgan Stark was a priority volunteer.

For as hurting as Morgan clearly was, Michelle could guess that she needed a good dose of reality as well - at least one person who wouldn’t suck up to her like they had something to gain. 

Morgan very clearly didn’t, not anything Michelle was interested in anyway. 

She holds back a laugh as she walks back into the hospital, already thinking of the letter she’d write to Peter to describe it all.

 **July 2035**

The start of summer means nothing to Michelle now, save for the influx of volunteer interns and the rise of allergies and accidents - all things that she details in her letters to Peter.

As her schedule gets busier, she finds it harder to make it to the lake house anymore than a weekend or two at a time - something that should make her feel less connected to her time traveling friend from the past but anything, it’s the opposite.

Michelle finds herself scrawling out little messages to him whenever she can, funny anecdotes that she’s careful not to break HIPAA with while also talking “to” him as a running commentary as she finishes errands around the city.

Yet each time Michelle starts to think that she’s putting too much effort into someone who she doesn’t even know her last name, she’ll get back to the lake house and find the same thing - endless letters from Peter who clearly thought of her just as much as she thought of him. 

For as serious as their letters would be, it was also banal in a way that made her laugh - Michelle thinking back to snippets of “conversations” they’d had over the last few months, all intertwined with their usual letters and post it notes to each other. 

_Is this weird, that we keep doing this? I feel like I know you but I don’t know the big stuff. You could be a serial killer for all I know._

_I feel like if I was a serial killer, you would_ _definitely_ _know me. Otherwise, I’m really terrible at my job and not worthy of even being written to._

_Hmmm. Well here’s some stuff you can know that’s not too much of a reveal: birthday’s August 10th. My favorite color is red and if I could have any superpower, it’d be time travel._

  
  


_Wow. Time travel. Really on the nose there. Unlike you, I would NOT like to have any kind of superpowers. The world has enough of them, trust me. And my birthday is June 10th so we’re what, two months apart? Give or take two years?_

  
  


_What? Happy birthday!! Belated? Future? I don’t know how this works. I wish you’d told me, I would’ve done something for you._

  
  


_Like what? Invent time travel?_

_You’d be surprised._

The length of time - figuratively and literally - meant nothing compared to how easy it was to talk to him, though the longer she kept it up, the more she wondered if she was hindering herself.

Michelle had moved back to the city for a lot of different reasons and despite her fast friendship with Liz and the consistent lunches with her mom, _Peter_ was the one she felt she spoke the most to - something that Michelle wondered if it was becoming a bit of a problem considering that Peter, whoever he is, didn’t exist in the here and now.

 _Except he does_ , Michelle thinks as she takes a sip of her beer on the rooftop of Liz’s apartment. She’d agreed to go to the Fourth of July party on a whim, committed to being less of the studious girl who had gotten through med school and more of the functioning adult she was supposed to be.

Yet there she was, surrounded by Liz’s drunk friends and some of their colleagues, looking out over the city skyline and wondering if Peter was out there somewhere - knowing she was was out there too. 

In one sense, Michelle understood why she kept this thing up with Peter beyond how funny and completely bonkers it was. Peter, as a person and as a concept, was safe - tidily in the past in a way that didn’t make her confront the realities of what a friendship or even what a relationship could be.

Michelle had never really had a lot of luck with getting close to people, but she was committed now to being different - opening herself up to the world around her and maybe even to Peter.

Fireworks fill the sky, illuminating the rooftop as her eyes fall on yet another Spider-Man mural on the roof across from her. 

Michelle takes a sip of her drink and resolves something within herself - formulating the letter she’ll write to him when she gets back home.

They should meet, or at least they should try.

If there’s anything she’s learned in the past few months, Michelle thinks as she stares at the Spider-Man memorial - life was too short to waste. 


	4. Chapter 4

**August 2035**

_ MJ, you are not gonna believe this. Actually, you might. Especially since you literally said this in that first letter. _

_ The scratch marks on the side of the house???? A BEAR showed up. While I was here. I almost died. It was traumatic and I resent the fact that you didn’t warn me that it was a BEAR. _

_ I’m fine btw. Thanks for NOTHING.  _

  
  


_ You’re dramatic, you know that? And like you already mentioned, I absolutely told you about the scratch marks. I didn’t ask about the details but no one ever gave them either. Sounds like a problem for you to figure out when you finally rent the place.  _

  
  


_ You’re mean, you know that? Super mean. Uncaring. I refuse to speak with someone who completely glosses over the fact that I was attacked??? By a BEAR?????  _

_ Not to change subjects but… you mind telling me when you started renting out the place? I know we said we shouldn’t talk too much about the future cause of “protecting the timeline” or whatever but I assume it happens sooner rather than later. _

_ I don’t want to miss out on getting to meet you. _

  
  


_ Don’t try and be cute when you just insulted me. I’m not mean, I’m observant. I told you about the scratch marks. You chose to ignore me. Plain and simple. _

_ And… I don’t know, honestly. My ex was the one who arranged it and it’s my aunt who arranges it all now. She must be getting some kind of killer deal or you put the place up for cheap.  _

_ Have you thought anymore about possibly meeting up? I don’t know how often you get the chance to come up here but if we’re gonna do this anytime soon… we should probably set a date? Unless you don’t want to.  _

  
  


**September 2035  
  
**

Michelle twirls the drink around the bar at O’Donnell’s, Liz happily chatting about the new girl she was dating as Michelle tries very hard to focus on the conversation at and and not on Peter’s unanswered letter.

When she’d gone up to the lake house last week, Peter hadn’t responded - the disappointment that she’d felt so immediate that had it not been for the money her aunt had given her for both the gas and the stay, she would’ve gone straight home.

Michelle couldn’t tell if his lack of response was because of some break in the magical link, because he was genuinely busy, or because he hadn’t figured out a way to turn her down.

Michelle was a big girl who could handle rejection, but it unnerved her to not have any other kind of context clues - the rational part of her arguing that it was only a matter of time before either her or Peter wouldn’t get the chance to respond very quickly because of their respective busy lives, only for the thought to hit her that she wasn’t sure if Peter had ever mentioned what he did for a living.

Something in science, she thinks - making a mental note to look through his letters when she gets home only only to chide herself for hyper focusing on it anyway, as if she didn’t already plan on driving up there again just to see if he’d responded. 

Peter was her friend, a long-distance and for all she knew alternate timeline friend - one that she shouldn’t be obsessing over when a real, flesh and blood friend was right in front of her.

But there was more to it than that, more to _him_ \- enough to make her so clearly distracted that Liz finally calls her out on it - Michelle just staring blankly at her as she says, “Hmm?”

“You know I don’t actually like to hear myself talk,” Liz says with a grin, Michelle letting out a huff as Liz continued, “What’s up?”

“Nothi—“

“And before you try to lie and say nothing, remember that your bullshit meter doesn’t  _ compare _ to mine,” Liz says, giving her a look as Michelle debates how to approach this.

On the one hand, if she started to tell people about the lake house or about Peter, there was every chance that it would blow up in her face. Superheroes were one thing but casual time travel via mailbox? Michelle wasn’t sure if people were ready to hear about that.

On the other hand, if Peter finally responded and took her up on her offer to meet in person - she liked the idea of the people she knew actually knowing where he came from.

Especially Liz, who had been a friend to her since day one.

Michelle is psyching herself up to do so, taking a deep breath only to hear a familiar voice that she wasn’t sure she’d ever hear again from behind her say, “MJ?”

Liz’s eyes widen, Michelle freezing before turning around and seeing Harry - the expression on his face a mix of surprise and shock as he laughs.

“MJ, hey,” he says, leaning forward to give her a hug only to freeze - Michelle seeing the debate in his eyes.

That shakes Michelle out of her own surprise, leaning into the awkward hug as Harry pats her on the back.

“Hey Har,” she says as she leans back,  _ feeling _ Liz’s shock emanating off of her. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” Harry says, with all his usual charm - something Michelle can immediately see right through as the act that it was, for Liz’s benefit at least.

It was only to his credit to act this way, especially as the son of billionaire and all around jerk Norman Osborn. 

Of her exes, her relationship with Harry had lasted the longest and by default, had been the most painful when it ended. The fact that it was mutual, that neither of them felt like it was a good fit between them in the long run or that their lives were too different - all of it was a little ironic for Michelle now considering the… whatever she has with Peter right now. 

She hadn’t expected to see him  _ here _ of all places, a cynical part of her wondering if he’d tracked her down. But then again, Harry had better uses of his time just as she did hers - their mutual breakup also resulting in a mutual understanding that they would rarely get the chance to see each other again. 

Before she has the chance to ask how he’s doing or what brought him here, someone calls his name - the three of them turning to see a pretty blonde that Michelle vaguely recognizes, only for Liz to confirm it when she asks, “Is that  _ Johnny Storm _ ?”

Michelle looks back up to Harry who looks apologetic, pointing his thumb back to the group before saying, “I gotta go. We were just— a weird bar crawl thing for a friend that—“

“It’s okay,” Michelle says quickly because it is, the smile on her face genuine and a sense of closure she can’t really make sense of flowing through her as she says, “It was really good to see you, Harry.”

Harry smiles at that, nodding once towards her before acknowledging Liz, turning back to Michelle as he says, “It was really good to see you.”

He taps his hand against the bar once, moving away from the two of them before turning around and saying, “We should meet up, sometime. Catch up. If you want.”

Michelle smiles, Harry just grinning back at her as he says, “I’ll text you?”

Michelle raises her drink towards him, Harry laughing as he walks back to the table he’s come from. She barely has the chance to turn back to the bar when she feels Liz poke her side, looking back at her to see the incredulous expression on her face.

“You know Harry  _ Osborn _ ?”

“We dated,” Michelle says, knowing this would only serve as further fire to the flame that’s clearly building in Liz’s eyes. “Old news.”

“Old n— old  _ news _ ? MJ, you’re telling me that you dated  _ Harry Osborn _ , who is friends with  _ the Human Torch _ AND you somehow randomly got assigned to mentor  _ you know who _ ?”

Michelle glances back to Liz who looks mystified, shaking herself a few times before asking, “any other surprises you want to share with me?”

Michelle can barely hold back a laugh, taking a long sip of her drink before setting it down and saying, “What else do you want to know?”

Liz grins, a flash of mischief across her face as she echoes the same words Michelle had told her the first day they met. 

“Everything.”

* * *

_ Let’s do it.  _

_ I am so sorry it took so long to respond. I was having some issues I had to take care of but it should be mostly resolved. For now, at least. _

_ Can I admit that I’m super nervous about this though? Cause I am. I don’t have a lot of luck with meeting people but I want to make this happen.  _

_ I want to meet up with you. I want to meet  _ _ you _ _. _

_ How about your favorite holiday? Halloween, right? Name a place and I’ll be there since the chances of any restaurant still being around from my time to yours is a shot in the dark. _

  
  


_ Il Mare. It’s been around for a few years and the chances of it being packed then are slim, especially since it takes thirty years to get a reservation.  _

_ Maybe we’ll have better luck with two? Is it crazy to ask you to wait two years for this? How will we even know each other? Wave the letters around?  _

_ It’s done! Il Mare. October 31st, 2035. 7pm. Hostess looked at me funny but it’ll be worth it when I come in again two years from now. _

_ Because I will.  _

_ I’ll bring a black dahlia. Can’t be a lot of people who call that their favorite flower.  _

_ Is this really happening!!??  _

_ See you in two years. _

_ It’s really happening.  _

_ See you in two weeks :)  _

**October 2035**

“Are you okay?”

Michelle glances to Morgan who is staring at her, arms folded and an eyebrow raised in a way that would almost make her laugh as she says, “Why do you ask?”

“You’re… fidgeting,” Morgan says, eyeing her up and down. It’s enough to actually make Michelle laugh as Morgan says, “You never fidget so either you started drinking coffee or something’s going on.”

“Observant. Good trait to have if you want to go into medicine,” Michelle says, easily deflecting as the tech she was waiting on hands her the folder of the results she needed.

Michelle scans the folder, thanking the tech before turning her attention back to Morgan saying, “You  _ do  _ want to go into medicine?”

Morgan shrugs, following along after Michelle as they walk down the busy hospital hallway. 

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Morgan grows quiet then, in the way she always does when the conversation starts to approach her future. Despite what every one of her supervisors had tried to push upon her, Michelle wasn’t going to rush Morgan to open up to her - correctly guessing that if or when she ever would, it would be on Morgan’s terms.

The fact that Morgan continued the volunteer hours long after the end of the spring and summer terms and was now well into the fall indicated she had to be serious, on some level. Yet if Michelle didn’t know any better, she wondered if maybe Morgan just needed to get out of the house - in a manner of speaking. 

From the little things she was able to glean from their limited conversations, Morgan had undoubtedly suffered a loss recently - someone close, someone important to her. 

If the gossip blogs were to be believed, Spider-Man wasn’t just affiliated with the Avengers but a close family friend - Michelle’s best theory that the fallen hero must have had some kind of connection to the teenager walking beside her.

Yet Spider-Man’s identity, even after his death, had been kept under wraps - a request from the family via Stark Industries that made Michelle glad that some poor parents or partner weren’t brought out to be symbols of the grief New York still had for their hero.

It had to be impossibly lonely, Michelle thought if her theory was right - to share in the mourning that everyone did while actually knowing the person behind the mask. Yet for as much as Michelle became more and more endeared to Morgan, she couldn’t bring herself to push a grieving teenager for details Michelle wasn’t even sure she wanted to know. 

“You have a long time before you have to decide,” Michelle says, Morgan’s head snapping up and meeting her gaze. “Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

Michelle smiles, Morgan giving her a rare smile back as she says, “Thanks.”

Michelle continues walking, ready to fall back into a comfortable silence only for Morgan to say, “You still didn’t answer my question.”

Michelle laughs again, shaking her head with a smile as they make their way down the hallway - Halloween decorations littered across the hall. 

She could barely contain her excitement and her nerves in seeing Peter for the first time, the hours between her and the person that she’d spent the past ten months getting to know passing quickly as she finished her rounds with Morgan and the rest of her shift. 

It didn’t even feel real, reading and rereading his letters to her over and over again as she got ready - going so far as to even call Il Mare and make sure that there was a reservation under a ‘Peter’ or a ‘MJ’.

To learn that not only that there was, but that the hostess she was on the phone with had been the same one who Peter had organized it with made Michelle feel like she was on cloud nine - more excited than she thinks she’s ever been for a date in her life.

Peter was  _ real _ and waiting for her, Michelle taking a deep breath as she tried to quell her nerves - adjusting the black dahlia necklace that her father had given her years and years ago.

She stands in front of the restaurant, staring down at the double doors before quickly checking her phone - only to smile when the clock shows the time as 7:02pm.

Michelle smiles, clicking her phone off and slipping it back into her purse - walking forward with purpose and nervous anticipation that after months of waiting,  _ years  _ for him, they’d finally get the chance to meet. 


	5. Chapter 5

**November 2035**

_You weren’t there. You didn’t come. I waited there for hours._

_You never showed up.  
  
_

_I don’t understand. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. We’ve got two years, MJ. We can try again._

_I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. You’re all I’ve thought about for months, MJ. I’m shit at keeping deadlines 99% of the time but this? There’s nothing on earth that could’ve stopped me from meeting you. Something must have happened._

_Don’t give up on me, MJ. The lake house brought us together for a reason._

_Please, MJ. Forgive me._

_Let’s try again._

  
  


_Life isn’t magic, Peter. And it can end at any second._

_I’ve been there at people’s worst moments, knowing there’s nothing more I can do and being completely powerless to stop it._

_But I can stop this._

_This is a fantasy, Peter. I came out to the lake house looking for a break and I found you… I let myself get lost. Lost in this beautiful fantasy where time stood still._

_But it’s not real. I have to learn to live the life that I’ve got._

_Please don’t write anymore. Don’t try and find me._

_Let me let you go._

  
  


**December 2035  
  
**

Michelle’s busy filling out charts, one of the things no one ever told her that it would take up so much of her time, only for a gift to be placed right in the center.

She glances up, seeing Liz smiling back at her. 

“What’s this?”

Liz shrugs. “Just a little something to cheer you up. Open it.”

Michelle huffs out a laugh, putting the pen down and opening the box in front of her - barely holding back a laugh when she sees what it is.

“An Iron Man plushie? _Really_? What if Morgan sees this?”

“Come on. I’ve heard her joke about the merch with the other volunteers,” Liz says, tilting her head with a smirk on her face. “You can’t say you weren’t an Iron Man fan growing up.”

“I wasn’t a fan of Iron Man growing up,” Michelle deadpans, only causing to Liz and roll her eyes as Michelle continues, “But thank you. Your gift’s in my locker. I was gonna bring it to O’Donnell’s.”

“I gotta head out right after our shift but,” Liz says, winking at her, “save it for me for tomorrow.”

Michelle laughs her off, Liz smiling and waving behind her as she walks off. Michelle brings her attention back to the plushie in her hand, thumb gently grazing over the middle where the arc reactor is.

She _hadn’t_ been a fan of Iron Man growing up, contrary to everyone else she was always around. Michelle had a lot of opinions about Tony Stark the man and Tony Stark the legend long before he’d ever snapped his fingers and saved the universe - a well-told story that was repeated every year on the anniversary of the Battle for the Worlds.

But whatever feelings she had about Tony Stark, she couldn’t deny just how much she liked Morgan - thinking whoever he was couldn’t have been that bad, considering how his daughter was.

It wasn’t lost on Michelle that Tony Stark had died when Morgan was likely still in kindergarten, but the feeling was still there - another wave of empathy for someone who had grown up in such a weird spotlight. 

She makes a mental note to not forget the gift she has planned for her, wondering if they were close enough now to ask if she’d be sticking around when the new year came along. 

Before she can stop herself, she inexplicably thinks of Peter - wondering what he was doing and what he’d be doing for Hanukkah.

Michelle shoves that away, forcing herself to focus on the charts in front of her and not on the time traveling fantasy she’d refused to face. 

She hadn’t been back to the lake house since that last letter and she didn’t plan on going. It hurt too much to think about, her pride and the genuine hurt that he had just left her there - waiting for hours. 

Michelle should give him the chance to explain, she knows this or should try again. But there was a reason she didn’t give people chances most of the time, Peter flaking out on her proving that her instincts about people were right - that she should’ve never let Peter be an exception.

Whatever this past year had been, Michelle convinced herself that the new one was going to be different. 

  
  


* * *

“Mom, it’s beautiful,” Michelle says as she brings out the leather bound journal from its wrapping paper - looking up to see the smile on her mother’s face, lights from the Christmas tree reflecting off of her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome Meesh,” her mother says, only for Michelle to see her expression change - Michelle’s shoulders sagging.

“Mom—“

“Maybe it will give you the chance to articulate your thoughts before your next letter,” her mom barrels forward with anyway, Michelle gritting her teeth as she sighs. 

“Mom, we talked about this. I’m not— Peter and I aren’t writing to each other.”

“It was one time” her mom says, Michelle quickly shaking her head.

“Once is enough. It’s _enough_ ,” she repeats before her mom has the chance to argue. “He had two years to be there and the one time we were supposed to meet…”

Michelle trails off, swallowing down the hurt and the embarrassment of what that night had felt like.

Michelle could still vividly remember the sad stares and complimentary wine that had been sent her way as she waited for him - much longer than she ever would have for anyone else.

The logical, more rational part of her quietly whispered that they _should_ try again - that one time was not nearly enough of an excuse to dismiss what they’d been building for months.

But that was just the thing, something that spoke to Michelle in spades. 

For her, it’d been months. But for Peter, it had been _years_.

If Peter couldn’t keep to their date, planned two years in advance, then something must happen between the two of them. There had to be a reason that the lake house had gone up for rent when her and Harry were together, much less that when that had happened - she never met Peter at any point. 

Michelle didn’t know a lot about time travel save for the movies and whatever the hell the Avengers pulled off but she did know this— if Peter failed to show up in 2035, there had to be a bigger reason why. 

That bigger reason could only be that something happens between the two of them — they get bored of each other or stop communicating, something that causes a break that prevents the two of them from ever meeting up in the future, much less throughout the entirety of her writing letters to him.

It hurt too much to think of— Peter being out there somewhere and leaving her to make a fool of herself, no matter what kind of falling out they’d clearly had. 

If Peter couldn’t have the decency to show up, Michelle didn’t feel the need to return the favor - ignoring both her mom and aunt Anna’s suggestions to go back up to the lake house.

“Do you want some more eggnog?” She quickly redirects, standing up and reaching for her mother’s glass before she can say otherwise.

Her mom hands it to her, Michelle ignoring the pointed look on her face as she heads to the kitchen - hoping that she gets the chance to avoid any further conversation about this, just as she can try to avoid the thought that she’d wasted so much time on something that would never be. 

**January 2036**

Michelle feels the opposite of nerves as she waits, if anything an almost unnatural calm while glancing out the window of the coffee shop she was at - people watching in a way she didn’t get the chance to most of the time. 

Yet her leg still bobbed up and down, wondering if she was making a mistake in reaching out - only for the door to open and glance up, smiling when she sees him walk again.

“Hey MJ,” Harry says with a smile, unfurling the scarf that she’s sure is more expensive than her monthly rent as she stands up to greet him.

“Hey Har,” she replies, giving him a quick hug that Harry freely returns - unbuttoning his coat and placing it on the chair behind him as they both sit.

“You got my coffee?” Harry asks, clearly amused as he motions to the still steaming cup in front of him.

Michelle shrugs as she says, “Thought I could give you a hand. I keep up with the news. Bad market for Oscorp right?”

Harry blinks then laughs as he runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tic that Michelle knows too well to think is just easy going humor as he shakes his head.

“I really have missed you, MJ,” Harry says, lifting up his cup and moving to toast her own.

Michelle mirrors his actions, Harry smiling at her as they tap the two cups together as he says, “Really. Thanks. I’m surprised you texted back, to be honest.”

“Wanted to take up on that offer to catch up. It’s been awhile.”

“We saw each other back in what, September? You had to wait a few months to decide?” Harry asks not unkindly, a slight concern in his eyes that unnerves her a little.

“New year, new me,” Michelle says casually, Harry almost choking as she grins.

“Okay now I know something’s wrong,” he says, clearing his throat as he sets his cup down. He folds his arms together, leaning forward on the table and staring back at her with a look that’s entirely too perceptive as he asks, “Seriously. You doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” Michelle says a little quickly, Harry making a face as she takes a sip of her coffee. “I meant it. Just wanted to catch up.”

“I’d believe you more if I didn’t know you so well, MJ,” Harry says carefully, eyeing her up and down before the expression on his face shifts. “But I also know you well enough to know that you’re not going to share anything that you don’t want to.” 

He leans back, unfurling his arms and tapping the table in front of them in the same way that he had when he was at the bar - a tic that makes her wonder if it’s a carry over from his frat boy days in college or some mechanism of Norman’s as he leans back in his chair. 

“So what’d you wanna catch up on? Read any good books lately? Watched any good shows?”

Michelle smirks, Harry grinning at her as he asks, “Tell me at least that you’ve done something fun since you’ve moved back.”

It strikes her then that in the year that she’s been back in the city, the most that she can show for it in terms of building a life revolve around a man in the past and dozens of letters that ultimately meant nothing. 

There’s a curious part of her, deep in the recesses of her mind that wants to ask Harry more about the lake house itself - who he had originally rented it from and if he could know who this “Peter” was who had captured her mind and heart for the better part of ten months.

He was arguably safer to ask than her aunt Anna, who clearly had an agenda - not so subtly texting her to let her know that if she ever wanted to visit again that she would be happy to pay for it. But Harry was also _much_ nosier than Aunt Anna, in a way that Michelle doesn’t trust herself to successfully navigate around.

Harry wouldn’t push her for details sure, but he was entirely too smart to bullshit - something that had initially attracted her to him when they were dating but wouldn’t serve her purposes now. 

Michelle shoves it aside instead, forcing a smile and saying, “does people watching in shitty coffee shops count?”

Harry laughs goodnaturedly, a feeling twisting around in her gut at the realization that whatever purpose she had in reaching out to him today - it wasn’t going to give her what she was searching for.

Michelle knew she was attractive and was an enviable catch, but rekindling something with her ex or even finding a hookup wasn’t going to soothe the wound she feels deep in her heart - hating that someone that she didn’t even know their last name or what they looked like could have such a hold on her. 

Yet he inexplicably did, Michelle trying - and failing - to push him out of her mind.

* * *

“Happy New Year or whatever,” Morgan says, plopping down on the couch in the only breakroom that the volunteers were allowed in.

Michelle holds back a smirk, folding her arms together as she leans against the doorway and says, “Happy New Year or whatever to you too.”

Morgan smiles at that, a win in Michelle’s book considering how long it had taken the two of them to get to this point. More than half of the volunteers who had started when Morgan originally did were long gone by now, be it because of their own respective schedules or timing. But Morgan stayed, even refusing the chance to shadow someone else around the hospital - something that made Michelle’s heart warm for the clear affinity the two of them had built with each other. 

That affinity was largely based on a mutual understanding that neither would press about the details of their life, or more really that Michelle wouldn’t drive the conversation. She was a little more than curious now to know more about her life just by virtue of having been around her for so long, but Michelle could see that her tentativeness had led to Morgan feeling comfortable with her. 

“You ready for rounds?” Michelle asks, Morgan nodding before leaning her head back against the couch and staring up at the ceiling. 

“Yeah. I uh, I think it might be my last week.”

Michelle freezes, unfurling her arms and standing up straighter. Here she was waxing poetic about their friendliness and how close they’d gotten in the almost year she’d been her mentor and here Morgan was, casually discussing the end of it. 

“Oh?” Michelle asks, her self-control being the only driving force in not asking her a thousand questions as Morgan lets out a sigh that sounds entirely too world weary for someone as young as she is. 

“Yeah, maybe. I don’t know. I might finish out the rest of the month but I uh, I don’t want to be around here around Valentine’s Day. Not as a volunteer, anyway.” 

Michelle frowns, eyebrows furrowing as she tries to connect the dots for why Morgan wouldn’t want to be around a hospital for a holiday that barely registered for Michelle for most years when Morgan leans her head forward and sits up.

“Were you here? Last year? When he died?” 

Michelle is still confused as to where Morgan was going with this conversation only for everything to painfully fall into place when the expression on Morgan’s face grows stormy - a shadow passing over her eyes as she says, “I knew him, you know. The real him. Spider-Man.”

Understanding washes over her just as she glances around the break room, being glad that it was empty. Michelle walks over from the doorway to come sit by Morgan, the latter of whom is now staring hard at her hands. 

There’s something that shifts in the atmosphere between them, Michelle getting the sense from a lifetime of doing this exact same thing that Morgan was about to share something deeply personal to her. 

Michelle had already guessed - correctly it seems - that Morgan knew the man behind the mask when it came to Spider-Man. But what she hadn’t expected nor had ever really wanted was Morgan to share that knowledge with her. 

Spider-Man dying had been the failure that sparked her going up to the lake house, what sparked the chance to meet Peter - something that twists around her insides now for how much wasted time that turned out to be. But Michelle could also guess, if Morgan and her were truly anything alike, that to stop her from sharing something so personal now would be a setback not just for their friendship but for Morgan’s growth - something that Michelle can’t even try and deny that she’s not invested in.

Morgan takes a deep breath, her shoulders sagging heavily on the exhale as she says, “He was… he was like my big brother. I knew him my whole life.”

Michelle waits quietly as Morgan twists her lips together, the pain from it so clear and visible on her face that it churns in Michelle’s gut to see how torn up Morgan still is about it. 

“We fought a lot, but I--I loved him. Sometimes I still think he’s just busy or at that stupid cabin and just hasn’t had the chance to come by for dinner but then I’ll uh, I’ll see a mural or something and it’s… I remember.”

“That has to be hard,” Michelle says gently, knowing full well that if _she_ was constantly bombarded by Spider-Man murals then it must be doubly painful for Morgan. 

Morgan glances up, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes as she says, “Yeah, you could say that.”

Michelle could think of several dozen things to say - about grief, about moving forward, about how it was okay to not be okay - but stays silent, if only to let Morgan have the chance to share whatever is on her mind. 

Morgan seems to take advantage of it, twiddling her thumbs together before saying, “He never wanted anyone to know who he was, behind the mask. Said that it would be hard on us, hard on May if the whole world knew.” 

“May?” Michelle asks, the curious part of her wanting to know if this was a girlfriend or a sister or his mom but staying silent. Morgan’s eyes flash with something that almost looks like fear before she glances around - seeing that the room is empty and locking eyes with Michelle again. 

“I know this is probably kind of stupid to ask since you’ve been my mentor or whatever for like a year and haven’t said anything, but… can you keep a secret?”

Michelle smirks, nodding as Morgan searches her face, biting her lip as she does so. 

“Is it bad to share a secret about someone when they never wanted it to be told?” Morgan asks, her voice so horribly broken that it churns at something in Michelle’s insides. 

Michelle goes to answer only for a couple of residents to walk in, clearly planned for the fake way that they exclaim their surprise at seeing Morgan. 

If Michelle had any doubts to the kind of life that Morgan Stark lived, it was eliminated then - seeing the walls build up right in front of her eyes as Morgan flashed a smile that was as practiced and as fake as the residents’ ploy to be around her. 

Morgan makes polite conversation only for Michelle to stand, giving some excuse that they had to get to rounds that caused the residents’ to shoot dagger towards her and for Morgan to look relieved.

It’s not until they’re down the hall and heading towards the elevator that Morgan finally says, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Michelle says with a smile, pressing the down button before saying, “It sucks that you have to deal with all of that.”

“I’m used to it,” Morgan says in a way that just aches at Michelle, only for that to turn to surprise when she asks, “But you didn’t answer my question.”

Michelle had thought that the moment between them had ended the moment the residents came in but it’s clear from the look on Morgan’s face that she wanted to share something with her - Michelle carefully considering her reply as they wait for the elevator.

It dings, the two of them entering into it and actually having it to themselves - Michelle waiting for the doors to close before she says, “I don’t think it’s bad, but I think it depends on the kind of secret.”

She glances to Morgan who looks contemplative, a faraway expression in her eyes as Michelle presses forward. “Sometimes there are things that you share with people to commiserate, especially when the person you originally shared stuff with is gone. But sometimes there’s-- there’s things that are only between you and that person. Do you know what I mean?”

Morgan chews at the inside of her cheek, Michelle knowing as well as she does that the time they have to themselves - relatively speaking - is quickly coming to a close as the elevator continues to move.

“Yeah, that makes sense. I think,” Morgan says with a smirk that looks a bit more genuine, Michelle returning it as Morgan says, “I don’t think it applies here though. Cause of the memorial and all.”

“The memorial,” Morgan repeats as the elevator doors ding, “or memorial service, I guess. Those idiots at city hall still haven’t figured out where their permanent memorial is gonna be. But uh, Valentine’s Day is when they-- when _we_ are going to tell everyone who he really was.”

Michelle’s stomach drops, the possibility of learning who Spider-Man was being something she _definitely_ does not want to know considering how difficult it was to see the superhero die right in front of her. To know who he was as a person, with a _family_ , seemed almost too much to bear - not when the images of Spider-Man around the city were a double reminder of two things she’d desperately wish to forget.

That Spider-Man had died in front of her and that his death had pushed her on a path to Peter, something that had only led to regret. 

But before Michelle gets the chance to give her some kind of encouragement or gentle nudge, Morgan presses forward saying, “I really don’t want to be around here, when it all happens. But I uh, I also don’t want to be alone?”

Michelle quirks an eyebrow. “Did no one else know who he was?”

Morgan makes a face as if Michelle had made some kind of hilarious joke as the two of them step out of the elevator. 

“People did. A few, at least. It’s just… it’s just really weird. I’ve kept his secret my whole life and a month from now, _everyone’s_ gonna know it.” 

They start to walk down the hall, Morgan shaking her head as she glances around the busy nurses station as she says, “It still doesn’t feel real.”

“Which part?” Michelle asks, smiling at a nurse who hands her a chart. She thanks her and the two of them start to walk back to the pediatric ward, Morgan glancing around the relatively quiet hallway as she says, “All of it.”

Morgan wrings her hands together, Michelle knowing that the window for Morgan being able to share anything was closing quickly the closer they got to a patient’s room. She didn’t want to rush her but Michelle also felt conflicted on whether she really wanted to know what Morgan had to say to begin with. 

“My dad invented _time travel_ and yet for this, we can’t— no one knows how to fix it. It’s so stupid.”

Michelle doesn’t know how to respond to that, letting Morgan continue as she says, “It’s not like he didn’t know people who could time travel.”

Michelle’s still confused, wondering how to ask a question she’s not even sure she wants to know the answer to.

Only for the wind to be taken out of her when Morgan continues. 

“Sometimes I wonder why his MJ hadn’t stopped it.”

Michelle stops in place, blinking a few times in confusion. 

“What did you just say?” 

Morgan looks at her now with the same kind of confusion Michelle had felt only moments before, furrowing her eyebrows as she says, “MJ. Some… girl he claimed he talked to from the future.”

Michelle feels hollow, blood rushing to her ears as her mind works in overdrive, channeling all her self-control into articulating her words as she says, “I don’t understand.”

Morgan lets out a small laugh, Michelle’s heartbeat pounding so loud that she can barely hear it as Morgan says, “Yeah, me neither. He swore me to secrecy, said that my mom would think he was crazy or some wizard guy would stop it or something. I don’t know.”

Morgan shakes her head, Michelle feeling something almost like dread forming in the pit of her stomach as Morgan’s expression darkens, grinding her teeth together as she says, “Some help she was though. They stopped talking and he just… he got reckless. It was so stupid. Driving up to our old cabin all the time to try and--”

“Your cabin? I’m sorry, I’m-- back up here,” Michelle says, her mind working at lightning speed and yet like it was trudging through cement at the same time - synapses firing as her brain tries to make connections that couldn’t possibly be true. “You’re saying Spider-Man was… he _talked_ to someone from the future? At a cabin?”

Morgan purses her lips, tilting her head before saying, “Well not talked really. Letters. From our old house. It was the first thing I hid when we got to his apartment.”

Michelle feels like she needs to throw up but Morgan just looks conflicted, biting her lips before saying, “I still feel bad about that. That’s why I wanted to ask--”

“Where’s your cabin? Is it by a lake? A lake house?” Michelle asks a little too forcefully, Morgan’s eyes widening as the pit in Michelle’s stomach grows. 

Harry was the one who had originally told her about the cabin. _Harry_ , an Obsorn who was connected to the Human Torch… who was there when Spider-Man--

“How did-- how’d you know that?” Morgan asks, eyes widening as her mouth falls open. 

Michelle lets out a gasp, taking a step back and shaking her head - refusing to acknowledge the truth that’s been staring right in front of her for months, something that if she allows her brain to let the pieces fall into place made all the sense in the world. 

But before Michelle gets ahead of herself, she takes a deep breath - her exhale shaky and her resolve firm as she asks the one question that she knows will confirm everything that she needs to know when she asks, “Do you rent it out?”

Morgan looks incredulous, almost betrayed as she too takes a step back and says, “It’s-- Happy only rents it out to people he trusts. It’s-- it’s not even listed.”

 _It can’t be. It can’t be. It can’t be_ , Michelle thinks but doesn’t say - struggling to make the connection when Morgan says, “But P-- he uh, called it an AirBnB anyway.” 

The almost slip of a tongue strikes at Michelle like lightning, piercing straight through her chest as everything else falls out of focus - forcing herself to ask the next question that her heart quietly knows the answer to already.

“Peter?”

Morgan’s eyes widen even more, searching Michelle’s face in shock - Michelle feeling like she’s been suckered in the gut when Morgan takes a step back - shock turning to anger as she asks, “ _How_ did you know that?”

Michelle doesn’t reply, backing away from Morgan and bracing her hand against the wall as the horrible truth floods through her in waves. 

Every note and every story that he’d ever told her all comes rushing back to her memory, making a painful amount of sense as she sharply inhales. 

If she’s right - something Michelle has never hoped more desperately in her life that she’s not - there had been a reason that Peter never showed to their date on Halloween. 

Peter hadn’t showed up not because he hadn’t wanted to meet. 

Peter hadn’t shown up because he was _dead_. 

Because Peter was _Spider-Man._


	6. Chapter 6

Michelle feels like the bottom has fallen through on her, bracing a hand against the wall as Morgan’s voice continues in the background - out of focus as Michelle tries to process this unfathomable piece of information. 

_Peter is Spider-Man. Peter WAS Spider-Man._

_Peter is dead._

Michelle gasps, feeling a hand on her shoulder that she immediately wants to shake off - only to meet Liz’s eyes, concern written all over face.

“Dr. Jones?” She asks, using the honorific they only ever did when in front of volunteers - another tick in the box of Michelle’s mind in support that Morgan wasn’t making all of this up to mess with her. 

She didn’t believe that she would, but it helps all the same especially since the chance that she would’ve ever heard her referred to as ‘MJ’ in any other context was slim to none. Michelle tries to catch her breath as her gaze shifts between Liz’s face filled with worry and Morgan’s that only shows fury.

“It was me,” Michelle finally says, coming to grips with herself. “I’m— my friends call me MJ.”

Morgan’s eyes widen even more, her head shaking a few times in disbelief as Liz asks, “What was you? What’s going on?”

“You— you’re _MJ_?” Morgan asks, Liz’s head snapping to her before her eyes dart between the two of them.

“What—“

“You’re telling me you knew? You knew this all time and you--You _left_ him. You didn’t— you broke his heart,” Morgan snarls, taking a step forward as tears start to form in her eyes.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know who he was,” Michelle replies, refusing to take the guilt of a grieving teenager yet her gut feeling hollow all the same when the realization finally sinks in. “That’s why he didn’t come.”

“Why didn’t you stop it? Why didn’t you—“ Morgan begins, only for a nurse to pop their head out of the room and shush the three of them. 

Morgan looks like she’s going to snap at them until Liz intervenes, thanking the nurse and saying, “Let’s take this somewhere else.”

“My patients—“

“Deserve better than someone who can barely stand upright right now,” Liz finishes, standing up straighter and glancing at Morgan. “Let’s go and talk this out somewhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere until—“

“ _Now_ ,” Liz says with the kind of authority that makes Morgan hold her tongue, staring back at Liz in defiance.

When it’s clear that Liz isn’t going to budge, she lets out a huff but Liz takes that as a win, turning her attention to Michelle as she says, “Come on, there’s a lounge down the hall.”

Michelle allows herself to be led away, walking on autopilot as the three of them follow after Liz.

She can feel Morgan’s rage and grief emanating off of her in waves but Michelle’s too far gone to be concerned about it just yet - coming to grips with the reality in front of her that can’t possibly be true and yet it is.

 _Peter_ was Spider-Man, every story and every joke and every note making that much more sense when she paired with the knowledge that he was the Peter from her letters.

That Peter had been writing to her from an upstate cabin lake house, a place where _Tony Stark_ had lived - the same person who created time travel, a part of Michelle connecting the dots to whether it had been in that very same house.

That Peter hadn’t ditched her for their date on Halloween in 2035 because of an argument or getting bored of each other.

That Peter had been Spider-Man. 

And Spider-Man was dead. 

* * *

They sit in silence, Michelle staring at Morgan who now is looking at anywhere but her.

“So,” Liz says carefully, eyes darting between the two of them once more, “time traveling mailbox?”

Michelle could almost laugh if she didn’t feel like she was going to throw up, catching Morgan’s eye roll as Liz continues. “I mean, half the universe was dead for five years from a nine-foot genocidal purple alien and the _Avengers_ did time travel to fix it so--”

Liz shrugs, Michelle turning her attention back to her, “I’m honestly surprised there hasn’t been more of this kind of stuff out there.”

“There has,” Morgan says, both Liz and Michelle turning to her in surprise. Morgan grits her teeth, looking annoyed before she sighs exasperatingly and shrugs. 

“It’s not like it’s public knowledge or anything. People would freak out.”

Liz nods understandingly, glancing to Michelle. 

“How are you holding up right now?” She asks, Michelle taking a deep breath as Morgan looks away from her. 

“I don’t know,” Michelle answers honestly. “I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that Peter is--”

“Dead. He’s dead and you didn’t do _anything_ ,” Morgan interjects, the fury on her face giving way to a grief that pierces right through Michelle. Liz holds a hand up to her gently, bracing the other against Michelle’s arm. 

“If I understand what you two have said and forgive me if I don’t, this is a _lot_ to try and understand, it sounds like Dr. Jones didn’t even know that your Peter was Spider-Man, much less that he…”

Liz clears her throat, seemingly coming to grips herself with the truth of who Peter Parker was in her own way. Michelle’s reminded of what Liz had told her that first day, of also growing up in New York. The loss of Spider-Man was felt everywhere, but especially for natives of the city. 

“That he’s gone,” she finally says. 

Morgan looks as if she’s seconds away from crying again, boring her eyes into Liz before finally shifting to Michelle.

Michelle for her part isn’t even sure what expression she has on her face or how professional she’s even capable of being, reeling still from the reality that she had corresponded for almost a year with a dead man. 

And not just that he was dead, but that his death - if Morgan’s snide remark had any weight to it - was somehow brought about because of her refusing to write to him ever again. That he’d gotten reckless and thrown himself into a fight he couldn’t possibly have won alone, the memory of the Avengers swooping in just seconds too late coming back to mind. 

There’s still so many unanswered questions for Michelle, not just the connection of Harry to the lake house or why Peter hadn’t contacted her during the year or so that separated him - only to remember with piercing clarity her last words to him.

 _Let me let you go_.

It’s painful now even more so to remember it, especially with the guilt that her words had somehow had a hand in his death. But before Michelle can give herself the chance to spiral, Morgan’s next words throw her out of her thoughts.

“But he doesn’t have to be right? You can-- you can fix this,” Morgan says earnestly, Michelle looking up to meet her gaze. 

“Morgan--” Liz begins, Morgan shaking her head quickly as she sits up straighter.

“You can _fix_ this. Peter he-- he went up to the lake house all the time, right up until Happy started renting it out. He,” Morgan lets out a laugh that sounds choked off, “he didn’t even rent it out, it was just to some rich kid who was friends with Peter.”

“Harry,” Michelle says, Morgan nodding furiously, only to let out a huff. 

“He _knew_ Harry, I don’t-- I don’t understand why he didn’t just find…” Morgan trails off, closing her eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath - opening her eyes once more to straight right into Michelle’s.

“You can _fix_ this. You have to,” Morgan pleads, Michelle uncharacteristically at a loss for words when Liz chimes in.

“Morgan, I’ll admit I don’t know a lot about time travel but wouldn’t that be impossible?” 

“My dad invented time travel,” Morgan bounces back, glancing to Liz before looking back at Michelle. “He invented it _at our lake house_. If he can do that, then you can-- you can still save Peter right? You can write to him. Tell him to--”

“Watch out for a freak tentacle man?” Michelle offers helplessly, Morgan’s eyes pleading with her as Michelle continues. “Morgan, the only reason I went back up to the lake house was because Peter died right in front of me.”

Michelle’s breath hitches at that as Morgan sharply inhales, snapping her lips shut as Michelle continues, “I’m not saying I don’t-- of _course_ , I-- I didn’t know that Peter was…”

Michelle takes hold of herself, taking a deep breath before exhaling slowly before saying, “If the only reason that I found him is because he died, wouldn’t trying to stop him create a paradox?”

“No cause that’s not how time travel works,” Morgan says, sounding entirely too certain of herself for someone who is sixteen - only for Michelle to be keenly aware once again of the last name she carries as Morgan continues, “That’s just from old movies it’s-- time’s a lot more complicated than that. If you stopped him, it’d just create like a different timeline.”

“Regardless,” Liz cuts in, looking a little out of her depth in a way that Michelle has never seen her before, “you can’t know that for certain. Even if it worked exactly as you said, if Dr. Jones was able to somehow stop Peter from dying, which there’s no guarantee that anything she says _would_ even do that, we have no way of knowing how that’ll affect _this_ timeline.”

Morgan pauses at that, Liz taking advantage of it as she says, “Not to mention that this isn’t something that _we_ should be deciding to begin with. No disrespect to your dad or any of the Avengers but,” Liz lets out a small laugh, “this isn’t the kind of stuff teenagers and normal people should be messing with.” 

“But I’m _not_ normal, I’ve never _been_ normal,” Morgan says with tears in her eyes, Michelle’s heart constricting for how desperate she sounds. “Don’t you get it? This is it-- this is, this could be the thing that saves him.”

She turns back to Michelle. “ _Please_. We have to--”

Morgan’s cut off by a knock at the door of the breakroom, all of them going silent just when an unfamiliar voice on the other end says, “Mo, you in there? Sorry to cut it short today but your mom needs you back at home.”

Morgan freezes, eyes widening as she turns to the door before glancing back at Liz and Michelle.

“Happy. He’s my--”

“Your driver,” Michelle says, though she knows the name now as being the same person who clearly must rent the lake house out to her aunt - a part of her secretly wondering if Harry was somehow in on the whole thing to or if it was all just some massive cosmic coincidence. 

It wouldn’t be the first time, just as Morgan was randomly assigned to her as a mentee, Michelle still reeling from the afternoon’s revelations but quickly shoving it aside in favor of getting to the task at hand. 

Morgan stands, Michelle and Liz doing the same as she calls out, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

She looks back to Michelle, eyes searching her face before a look of determination falls over it. 

“I’m gonna save Peter, Dr. Jones. With or without you,” she says. If Michelle had any doubt that she was Pepper Potts' daughter, she wouldn’t anymore - a fierceness in her that spoke volumes not just to the father who died to save the universe but the mother who had raised her. 

Before Michelle or Liz have the chance to answer, Morgan turns without saying another word - leaving Michelle to wrestle with the impact of her words. 

* * *

“What are you going to do?” 

Michelle shrugs, taking a long swig of her beer as Liz sits next to her in the crowded bar of O’Donnell’s. It wouldn’t have been Michelle’s first choice but there’s something about the noise that actually helps her think, setting her drink down as she takes stock of the options in front of her. 

Michelle had no doubt that Morgan meant every single word of what she said, the determination in her eyes haunting her in the background as Michelle worked her shift. Morgan wasn’t set to come back into the hospital for another few days and if she was successful, there was a good chance that she wouldn’t be coming back to the hospital to begin with. 

The fact that Morgan’s plan was ridiculous, based solely on a hope that may not even _work_ paled in comparison to what would happen if it did. In Morgan’s mind, the chance to bring Peter back - at any cost - was worth it.

But Michelle was a doctor, _a healer_ \- swearing an oath to do no harm. Peter was _dead_ and yet Michelle couldn’t help but think of what would happen if he wasn’t, what that would mean for the millions of people who had not only died but _lived_ in the months that he’s been gone. 

The world would no doubt be better off if Spider-Man was still in it, the memorials all around the city still being proof of that. Yet there was still the chance that doing so would set off some kind of terrible chain reaction, Michelle feeling as if she was dealing with things far beyond the scope of things any normal person should ever have to deal with.

Yet Morgan’s words come back to her, the realization that for Morgan this _was_ normal. Michelle vividly remembered what it had been like to have been snapped from existence and to be brought back, readjusting to a world that had moved on and was thrown back into upheaval once again. For all the objective good that being alive meant to her and to billions of others, Michelle wasn’t foolish enough to try and dismiss the ramifications of what the Avengers did and how it impacted the universe still to this day.

Now here Michelle was, faced with a choice - to let _Peter_ stay dead and live in the world as it is today, living with the reality that she may have been a cause in it or to take a chance - risk _everything_ for the one person she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about no matter how much she’s tried. 

A person that Michelle wonders, glancing to Liz, might be worth risking everything for. 

* * *

Michelle’s hand grips the steering wheel a little tighter as she drives down the familiar highway, the anticipation and dread running through her in equal parts. 

This was foolish, probably the _craziest_ thing she’s ever done— second only to writing Peter back on that first day. 

But there’s no turning back now, literally or figuratively as she takes the exit that will take her to where the lake house will be.

Any thought she had of someone being up there is gone now she knows from Morgan that no one but her seems to rent it out in the first place. She nearly called her aunt Anna, then Harry, then her aunt Anna on the way up here and stopped herself every time— still conflicted if her coming up here was a good decision at all.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to save Peter, she did— desperately. She still can’t wrap her head around the idea that Peter was _dead_ , much less that he was Spider-Man.

But all of this could be for nothing or could end up setting off a ripple effect that would make everything worse than it had been before.

If Morgan was to be believed - and if anyone would know about time travel, it would arguably be the daughter of the man who did it himself, regardless of her age - saving Peter would just branch out a new timeline.

Michelle doesn’t know if that would do anything for _this_ one but she does know this, the decision made as soon as she woke up this morning and took a sick day from work.

Michelle doesn’t know if changing the timeline will have any effect on her own. But if there’s any chance that a Peter somewhere will be saved, that a MJ somewhere will get to finally meet him— Michelle knew she couldn’t be the one to stop it. 

That’s the mantra that she runs over and over in her head as she pulls into the private road that will take her to the lake house. The house looks large over her, just as it had that first day she wrote back to Peter - the snow on the ground all around her feeling almost magical for how much it looked as if time stood still.

 _Stop that_ , Michelle chastises herself, trying and failing to shove away the anxiety and the fear churning around in her gut that all of this was for nothing. She grabs a pen and the same notebook her mother got her for Christmas, a half-assed attempt for good luck that Michelle didn’t even believe in but did anyway.

She pushes the door open and slams it shut, heart leaping up into her throat when she sees that the mailbox has the little red flag standing straight up.

Michelle crosses the distance, forcing her hand to be calm when she opens the mailbox — only to gasp when she sees the sheer amount of letters in there.

 _“He went up to the lake house all the time,”_ Morgan had said, a pang running through her at the realization that while Peter eventually listened to her request and didn’t seek her out in real time through Harry or Happy or whoever else— that he hadn’t stopped writing to her in the hopes that she would change her mind.

It takes her breath away now, the full realization settling over her that these are the letters of a dead man. Michelle forces herself to focus, delicately taking the letters out. 

There’s no real sense of urgency, Peter’s dead. Writing to him now in the hopes that he’ll still check the mailbox in January 2034, a few months before she and Harry would stay there for her spring break, will arguably branch off a new timeline somewhere and she’ll have all the time in the world to read his letters.

But Michelle can’t help herself with the first few, swallowing down the lump in her throat as she scans over his words.

_MJ, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. Please write back. Please don’t give up on me._

_I know I hurt you. I do that a lot it seems, with the people I love. But I promise I’ll make it up to you. Please give me another chance._

_Writing to you has made my year. I don’t know why I messed this up for us, bad luck I guess. But I won’t give up on us, MJ. I won’t give up on you._

There’s so much more but she doesn’t read it just yet, using this reminder that a Peter somewhere deserved to be saved as she shoves the letter under her arm and opens her notebook — quickly scrawling out a message she can only hope gets delivered.

_Peter,_

_I know why you didn’t show up to meet me at Il Mare on Halloween._

_You didn’t because you’re Spider-Man… and Spider-Man died on February 14th, 2035._

_I know we said we wouldn’t share about the future and I’m not even sure if this will work, but Peter please— you have to promise me._

_Do not be alone on Valentine’s Day. Or any day. Don’t be reckless. You had so many people there to help you but you rushed forward to fix something you never should’ve alone_

_I saw you die, Peter. And I didn’t know until yesterday that it was you ._

_Please be safe. Please… wait for me. I’m here at the lake house, right now. 11:06am on January 26th, 2036._

_If you can read this, please. Don’t be alone. Don’t be reckless._

_Stay alive, Peter. Please._

Michelle carefully tears the paper from the journal, folding it up and shoving it into the mailbox before bringing the little flag down.

She waits for a moment, only to let out a choked off laugh at how silly it is to expect him to read it right now— looking up at the house once more. 

_Please_ , she whispers to no one in particular before closing her eyes - snow gently starting to fall all around her when she opens them back up again.

She takes a deep breath, staring at the mailbox for a beat until she gasps— the little red flag standing right back up.

Michelle immediately feels tears in her eyes, letting out another laugh as clutches the letters to her chest. 

Her Peter was still dead but this could only mean it worked, that a Peter somewhere was still alive would get to be saved and that maybe, a MJ would get to finally meet him.

She turns away from the mailbox then, a weight lifted off from her shoulders as she walks back to her car— finally letting the sorrow move back in at the reality that while Peter might be alive somewhere, all she’ll ever have left of him are the letters in her arms.

She doesn’t know how she’s going to explain this to Morgan, opening the door and moving to get in when she hears it - the sound of gravel as someone pulls into the driveway.

Michelle freezes, staring in confusion and then in shock when the beat up car rolls up - heart pounding in her ears when the driver shuts the engine off and opens the door.

She lets out a sharp exhale, gently laying the letters she still has on the driver’s seat - something that should be impossible now because of who she sees - staring straight at a man who looks at her with an earnest expression on his face.

“Hey MJ,” he says, warm brown eyes searching her face as he takes a step forward.

“Is— how is— are you—“

“It’s Peter,” he says with a smile on his face, Michelle’s eyes widening in shock as he continues, “I got your letter.”

Michelle takes a step forward, snow still gently falling all around them as she shakes her head.

“I don’t understand. I— you can’t change the past, right? How— how are you _here_?”

"You wrote to me in 2034, telling me what was going to happen,” he says. “I uh, I finally talked to Doctor Strange about it. He’s a wizard, knows a lot more about this time travel stuff than me but…” Peter trails off, staring at Michelle in amazement. 

“I listened.”

“But I don’t understand,” Michelle says, “were you alive this whole time? Did I-- is this another dimension now? Are _you_ from another dimension?”

Peter laughs, Michelle’s heart jumping at the sound. Peter takes another tentative step forward, eyes still constantly searching her face as he says, “I know it’s a lot to handle and Doctor Strange can explain it a lot better than I can. We’re supposed to go over there now so he can but,” he takes another step forward, until he’s standing right in front of Michelle as she stares into his eyes.

“I’m _real_ . I’m here,” Peter says, his eyes softening as he looks on at her, “And I’m so glad that _you’re_ here too.”

Michelle doesn’t miss the inflection in his voice, just as she doesn’t miss the way he’s looking at her-- Michelle’s heart pounding in her chest as she lets herself think that this might actually be real. 

She reaches a hand out, Peter waiting patiently as she gently puts a hand to his cheek - searching his face before it finally hits her.

“You’re here,” she whispers, Peter’s smile growing wider.

“I’m here,” he whispers back, Michelle closing the distance between them by surging forward - pulling him into a kiss. Peter immediately leans into it, Michelle gasping with the intensity of it as he pulls her flush against him, his hands moving from gently bracing at her arms to wrapping around her waist -- pulling her even closer to him. 

It’s a kiss that leaves her breathless, all-consuming and yet painfully familiar in a way that it shouldn’t. Yet Michelle can’t think of anything else but how Peter’s lips taste against hers, of the warmth of his body heat and of the hope that she feels blossoming in her chest at the chance that this was very, _very_ real.

When they finally part, Michelle laughs as she rests her forehead against his. 

“Why do I feel like we’ve done that before?” She asks, hearing Peter’s laugh as she leans her head back and looks back into his eyes. 

“Doctor Strange will--”

“Explain it, yeah,” Michelle finishes, shaking her head again as she lets the reality of who is in front of her truly sink in.

“I don’t even know your last name,” she says with a laugh, Peter’s grin turning into full-throated laughter.

“Yeah, I-- you wouldn’t huh? Well,” he brings a hand to her cheek, thumb gently grazing over it as he says, “Hi. I’m Peter Parker.”

“Hi Peter Parker,” Michelle says with a grin, “I’m Michelle. But my friends call me MJ.”

“Are we just friends?” Peter whispers, Michelle leaning forward and whispering against his lips, “I hope not.” 

She still has letters in her front seat of a Peter who was no longer there, or maybe he was-- Michelle fully recognizing that there was so much more of time travel that she didn’t understand. 

She can’t help but wonder from the look on his face if maybe she had magically replaced another Michelle, if writing to Peter had shifted her world or the universe-- wondering now if she knew Morgan though if how Peter looked at her was any indication, maybe she did but in an entirely different capacity.

What she did or didn’t know, what world she was going to find herself in - all of that melted away in the moment as she pulled Peter into another kiss. 

She’ll have to learn all about what exactly Doctor Strange would say when they went back into the city, curious more than ever to find out what exactly she missed. 

But for now she let herself be swept up in the fantasy of the moment, of Peter’s lips warm and soft against hers and the hope that maybe, there was some magic left in the universe after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thanks for forensicleaf, momentofmemory and blondsak for listening to me flail about this for months, especially in helping figuring out all the plot details.


End file.
